Shameless
by Rachel Greenwood
Summary: A quick story about Jack and Rose's first night together after they arrive in New York. There's no plot; it's just sexy, romantic fun.


Rose sucked in her breath. Her hands trembled, and her knees buckled.

Jack looked up, his mouth curling into a grin. "There you are," he said. "I was about to come look for you."

She was shocked to hear herself speak. It didn't seem possible she still had the ability. "I was just looking around," she said. "I can't quite believe I'm here."

His eyes dimmed slightly, but his grin never wavered. "I can't quite believe you're here either," he said, taking her hand. He laced his fingers through hers. "But I'm glad you are. Rose, I'm so glad you are." Her heart thudded in her chest; his blue eyes took up the whole world. "I am too," she said in as calm a voice as she could manage.

His eyes lit up again. "I'll take you somewhere better," he said. "Tomorrow, I promise." He brought her hand up to his lips. "We'll never look back." Rose's stomach fluttered when he kissed her knuckles _. You're being absurd,_ she told herself. _He's already seen you wearing nothing but a necklace, and furthermore he's_ —Her cheeks filled with heat.

Jack gave her a curious look. "What's that for?" he asked.

"What's what for?" she said quickly, stepping past him.

He didn't let go of her hand; he just moved with her. "That blush," he pressed. "Why are you blushing, Rose? Did I do something to—"

"No, Jack. I'm fine. It's the cold." She laughed. "A lady's skin wasn't made for a wind like the one out tonight."

Concern replaced curiosity in his eyes. "I'm sorry," he said. "I should've asked if you were cold." He moved closer. She tried not to stiffen as he rubbed his hands up her arms. _His hands._ Heat began gathering between her legs. _Don't think about his hands._ Now they were on her face; his fingertips moved across her cheeks. She stifled a groan when they reached her curls. "I think I just need to go to—to—bed," she said slowly.

He nodded. "Of course," he said softly. "I shouldn't be keeping you up. You've gotta be exhausted." He leaned in and gently kissed her. "I'll take the floor. You take the bed."

"Jack, you don't have to do that. I'm perfectly capable of—"

"This isn't about what you're capable of," he said. "I know what you're capable of." He kissed her forehead. "But I love you, and I want you sleeping in a warm bed."

A rush of love washed over her. She squeezed his fingers. "I love you, Jack," she said solemnly. She kissed his fingertips before releasing his hand.

"I'll wait in the hall while you—" He made a motion with his hands. "While you undress."

Was it just her or was his voice thicker? "I won't take long," she said.

"Take all the time you need. Just call when it's okay to come in."

Rose's hands trembled so it was almost impossible to undo the tiny hooks on her dress. She tossed it over a chair, grateful to be rid of the cumbersome thing. She slipped out of her undergarments without a second thought. She had never slept naked before, but when the cool sheets touched her bare skin she vowed to sleep naked forever. It was the most delicious feeling. She giggled as she twisted beneath the sheets, her legs curling around themselves and the thin fabric. Her breasts were free; she had never realized how heavy they were. Tentatively she ran a hand over them, gasping when a jolt of pleasure shot through her. The heat between her legs intensified.

"You can come back in," she called.

Jack forced himself to look everywhere but at Rose. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her fiery curls spilling over the white pillow. The blankets were drawn up to her chin; not even her arms were visible. He didn't have to see the pile of clothes on the chair to know she was naked. He steeled his will. _Don't think about it. Don't you even think about it_. There was an extra blanket folded on the edge of the bed; a pillow sat atop it. He put the pillow on the floor next to the bed and lay down, spreading the blanket over himself.

"Are you going to sleep in your clothes?" Rose asked a hint of surprise in her voice _. What else_ _would you have him sleep in? s_ he asked herself reproachfully. _He has nothing else. Would you have him do as you're doing?_ A faint blush spread across her cheeks at the thought of Jack's nude body. She wondered what he would look like asleep. Did his hair fall in his face the same way when he slept? Did he still grin? Did he talk?

"You're blushing again." His voice broke her reverie.

"I am?" she said putting a hand on her cheek, careful to keep the blankets from falling.

"Yeah," he chuckled. "I never imagined well brought up young ladies blushed so often."

"Oh, but that's all we do," she said. "We blush at everything."

"Is that so?"

"Wouldn't you blush if you had been taught anything more than a soft laugh during afternoon tea or a polite conversation about something trivial and, I cannot emphasize this enough, wholly boring was simply too risqué for words?"

Jack considered her statement. "I guess I would," he said. "In fact, I'm not sure I'd know what to do if out in the world."

Rose dropped her eyes. "Sometimes I'm not so sure I do," she said quietly. He reached out and touched her hand through the blanket. "Looks to me like you've known exactly what to do," he said. She smiled. "And I see people," he added. "You said so yourself."

They lay like that, his hand on hers, each absorbed in their own thoughts. Rose concentrated all her energy on maintaining a normal breathing level. She bit her lip to keep from crying out under the weight of her desire. There were two layers between his hand and hers and yet his touch burned into her skin. Jack, meanwhile, was trying to plan for the first time in years. They would need food, shelter, a destination; he couldn't just decide to go a few days without eating because there wasn't money for it. There had to be money for it. There had to be money to keep a roof over Rose's head, and not just any roof either. He'd be damned if she had to sleep in a squalid garret that didn't keep the wind out, if she went to sleep chilled and woke up with the blood drenched cough that meant only one thing. And yet if he let himself imagine he felt her skin and not a blanket then he could forget everything else.

"Jack?" Her mouth felt dry.

He raised his head. "Yeah?" he said. The words poured from her mouth before she could stop them. "Would you come up here? Onto the bed?" His eyes widened. She pressed on. "Hold me?"

She thought she would breathe easier when his arms were around her, but his nearness only made things worse. The heat between her legs was now a tingling. She squeezed her eyes shut and buried her face in his chest. His shirt was soft; his scent filled her next breath. He kissed the top of her head chastely, pretending her didn't feel her naked body pressing against him. Everything would be fine just as long as she didn't feel him. Rest was as impossible as turning the tide of his body. Unconsciously, he hugged her tighter.

 _You shouldn't have jumped into bed with her._ But how could he not? _And why shouldn't I be in_ _bed with her? It isn't as though we haven't already—_ He pushed the image from his mind. That didn't mean it would happen again, especially not so soon. _I'll follow her lead. Wherever she wants to go, I'll follow._

Rose shifted, thrilled by the way both their bodies responded to her movement. _He wants me. He wants me even more now than he did the first time._ As she lightly kissed his chest she thought, _And I want him even more this time._

Jack shivered. "Rose," he said, "What—" The look in her eyes silenced him. She slowly ran a hand up his chest. Her cheeks reddened, not with shame this time but desire. His heart beat beneath her hand. "Jack," she said, "Make love to me again?"

Rose wasn't sure how she came to be straddling his hips. His hands slowly moved up her. He wore a look of pure concentration, his gaze fixed on her. It was as if he were studying a painting. He licked his lips as his thumbs grazed her nipples. They hardened under his touch. She pressed herself against him with a shiver. He groaned. "Rose…" He cupped her breasts as she began unbuttoning his shirt. Her hands moved quickly. Before he knew what was happening she was tugging his pants from his hips.

Her curls fell in a curtain around his face when she kissed him. Her fingers encircled him, her skin cool and soft against his throbbing hardness. He moaned into her mouth. She pulled away, laughing softly. Her heart beat wildly. The situation had taken on a surreal haze. She hadn't explored his body the first time; there hadn't been time. And she had been too nervous despite what she said. She slowly moved her fingers over him, marveling as she did so. The tingling had morphed into an ache. She was vaguely aware that her thighs were wet. She looked down into Jack's eyes. "I want you," she said softly, somehow still amazed at her own boldness.

It was a blur, and yet it was as clear as a diamond. They moved feverishly, hands and mouths exploring every inch as though they would never get another chance. Later, looking back on it with the clarity that a distance of years brings, Rose would realize that was just how they made love, feverish but never rushed, intoxicated but never clumsy. Especially not Jack's hands, she would think.

Rose tightened herself around him. She dug her nails into his back as the first wave of her orgasm hit her. "Jack," she groaned through clenched teeth. She was afraid to loosen her jaw; there was no way of knowing what sound she would make if she did. He moved faster, spurred on by her nails. She bit him when he lowered his head. It happened before she could stop herself. Intrigued, she bit him again. He moaned into her neck. A new thrill shot through her.

They held each other when it was over, legs entwined and middles pressed together. Jack softly stroked her cheek. His breath came in gasps. Rose lay still, her mind reeling. "What are you thinking about?" he asked.

"You," she said. He kissed the corner of her mouth. The tingling began again as a new thought flitted across her mind. "Will you kiss me, Jack?"

He twisted her curls around his fingers. He kissed her gently and deeply. "Like that?" he asked.

"Almost," she said, taking his hand. "But I don't want you to kiss me here." She placed his hand between her legs. "I want you to kiss me here."

"Are you sure?" he gulped.

She nodded. "Kiss me, Jack." She didn't know what had come over her, and she didn't know how to stop it either. No, she didn't want to stop it. Jack's lips slowly moved down her body. Running her fingers through his hair, she sighed. Everything melted away, all the rules, the shame, the polite things she said to hide her real feelings. It all melted away beneath Jack's kiss.

…..

But it all came rushing back the moment she opened her eyes the next morning. Jack grinned down at her. Her head lay on his chest; his arms encircled her. He stroked her hair. "You're beautiful when you sleep," he said. "Even more beautiful than I imagined you would be. You're beautiful when you're doing a lot of things," he added mischievously. She blushed under the implication of his statement. "I didn't mean to make you blush," he said. "I like it."

"Y—you like it? What, exactly?"

"Making you feel good," he answered simply.

"You do?"

"Yes," he said with a laugh. "Why wouldn't I?"

"The way I behave when—it's not seemly—I shouldn't—"

"I don't think love making is a situation where it doesn't matter if you aren't polite," he said. "You just go with it, and if that includes biting—" Her blush deepened. "—Then that's alright."

"Women aren't supposed to…" She searched for the words. Each phrase sounded worse than the next.

"Aren't supposed to what?" he asked. "Enjoy anything?"

"I suppose so," she said.

"Why not?" He kissed her neck. "Like that?" She nodded. His hand slid across her stomach, ticking her. "And that?" She responded with a giggle. He shook his head and clucked his tongue disapprovingly. "Whatever will I do with you? I guess I just have to leave you. Can't have a woman like you in my life." It was clear from his tone he was joking.

"That is the commonly accepted way to deal with a lustful, shameless woman," she said lightly. "No man ever marries them unless pressed into it. And I don't have anyone to press you into it."

He locked eyes with her. "That's too bad because I had this plan to marry you as soon as possible. Well," he added sheepishly, "if you'll marry me, of course."

She couldn't believe her ears. "You want to marry me?" _Why would you think otherwise?_ The response was in her mother's voice. She pushed it away. _No. Jack isn't like that. He loves me. He doesn't want me to change._

"I guess this wasn't the best way to ask you," he said. "And I don't have a ring either. Or any money. Or anything really. And if you don't want the poor guy whose got nothing to offer you, well, I understand." He studied her face. _She loves you. What more does she need to do to convince you?_ But it just didn't seem possible. Tommy's voice echoed in his ears, "Angels fly out of yer arse."

Later that afternoon, as they left the courthouse, marriage certificate folded and tucked safely in his pocket, Jack tried to scan the sky for angels. He was distracted by Rose, who, in the words of the society matrons watching from across the street, "Shamelessly threw herself at him without any regard for common decency."


End file.
